


Never Mad

by cazei



Series: Newsies Works by Readeatsleeprepeat [7]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But it's only briefly mentioned ¿, I'm A Slut For Protective Spot, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Protective Spot, Race is nearly raped, Spot's Parents Suck, but i will change the rating/warnings if asked, but nothing happens, i always hurt race, i'm also asexual whoops, poor race, probably swearing, why tag normally when i can come out to random strangers on the internet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazei/pseuds/cazei
Summary: Race takes a few seconds to breathe, and when Spot can hear this through the phone, he knows something's wrong."Sean, I think...I think he put something in my drink."Spot stops breathing."What?"-Race has a date. It doesn't go well.-CONTENT WARNING: Attempted rape, mention of past child abuse, date-rape drugs.





	Never Mad

**Author's Note:**

> ~~this is~~   
>  ~~highkey~~   
>  ~~based on an amazing holy crap it was so good nurseydex, from check please, fic. so if you ship them, i'll link it eventually. i'm on mobile rn so whoops~~
> 
>  
> 
> okay so, they're in college/summer between years. spot and race share an apartment, and all the other newsies live in the same building as them.
> 
>  
> 
> <>TW in summary!! be aware!!
> 
>  
> 
> <>thanks so much for this prompt @ you know who you are

Spot hears another door slam, and he resigns that he just may have to get up and check on Race.

Usually, this wouldn't be a big deal, but after last Tuesday it is.

Spot sighs inwardly and rolls his eyes at no one. _Race is fine_. They've been avoiding each other for nearly a week, why stop now?

Wow. _Has it really been a week?_ Who would've thought that they could ignore each other for so long?

Race and Spot have been friends since middle school, maybe even before. They've fought, each other and outsiders alike, together. They've gotten in trouble together. They've road tripped cross-country together. Who knew it would be a single Tuesday in the summer before their Sophomore year of college that would break them apart?

Spot shifts again, this time to grab his laptop and earbuds. He doesn't need to hear his thoughts right now.

-

A minute or so later, there's another slam, this time it's from the bathroom door.

Spot sighs and moves his laptop off his lap. Creeping across his room, as if he doesn't live there and is trying to avoid getting caught, he makes his way to the door.

He opens the door. Race stands in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning to look in the mirror. When he pulls out, he's still running a hand through his brushed hair.

"Going somewhere?" Spot scowls. He isn't sure why he scowls, it just feels natural.

Race startles upon finally seeing Spot. "Oh. Hey, Spot."

Spot doesn't respond.

Race sighs and continues. "Not that it's any of your business,-"

"I'm your roommate, of course it's my business," Spot says. As if that's the real reason.

"I have a date."

_A what?_

"A _what_?" Spot voices. He sounds angry and confused; this is how he feels, yes, but that doesn't mean Race needs to know.

Race copies his trademark scowl now. "Don't act as if you have a say in this. You made your position quite clear last week."

_Ah. Yes. Last Tuesday._

Spot, knowing he's lost, backs down in his words, but not his glare.

"I'll be back later," Race says, pushing past him before he can speak. " _Or_ not."

Without turning, Spot knows he's left. He can hear the door slam and it rattles his bones.

And Spot's blushing. In an apartment. By himself. And he doesn't know if it's from anger or embarrassment.

All of the above, he decides.

He has no right to be angry, though. Race was right; he did make his case quite clear.

Spot panicked, it wasn't his fault. He spent his entire childhood hearing his parents ramble on and on about heaven and hell and sin. He heard more homophobic slurs in his house than he did in four years at a public high school.

So, when Race leaned just too close at just the right time, Spot panicked. It didn't matter that he's now realized that, yes, he does like Race. It didn't matter because he was scared, and he was a kid again. He was a broken kid in a broken home, the only thing holding it together being hate.

He loves Race; Spot has accepted this. It may be platonically, but he sees now that it can be so much more if they let it. He accepts that he is who he is, and he isn't going to let the words of dead family members change that.

But, this is what he realized in the dead silence of his empty apartment. This is what he realized after he shoved Race away and fled into his room, half in a panic.

Race came back the next morning, apologized to his closed door, and went into his room. They've barely spoken since.

Spot turns now and stares at the door where Race left through. Where his best friend fled from him through.

He collapses into his room, chest heavy and tears ready to fall.

Spot doesn't let them free. He holds them in. He crawls under his covers, he sniffs, and he presses play on his laptop again.

He can't get emotional -- not when Race is already gone. _Not when he's already lost him._

\---

Race exhales as the door closes behind him.

_God, he's so stupid. Who does he think he's kidding? Why did he even agree to this date?_

He doesn't even know the guy. Oscar was nice enough when he asked him out. He was cute, in a non-traditional sense.

He knows it's not Spot, though. That's all that matters.

If there was one thing Race could take back, he knows it wouldn't be the kiss though. It was a mistake. Spot should've decked him for it. He's probably ruined their entire friendship.

But at least he got to feel Spot's lips on his.

At least _once_.

Race sighs, pushes off from the door, and heads downstairs to meet his date. At least he'll get free food out of it, _right_?

-

 _Maybe_ , Race thinks, _free food wasn't worth it._

He grins anyway and walks over to Oscar, who's not hiding the fact that he's taking his time looking Racetrack over.

"You look good," Oscar says, grinning lopsidedly.

Race smiles nervously. It's not the first time someone's made him uncomfortable, not nearly. He's just a shy person, and he thinks it's because he's introverted at times. He shakes off his mistrust with Oscar and allows himself to see the good in people.

"Thanks. Where to?" Race says.

Without answering, Oscar walks up to Race and puts an arm around his waist.

Race is all one for physical contract, but _not_ when he doesn't even know this man's last name.

It's been ages since he's had a date, though, and he's touch starved. He tries to sink into the touch, while still nervous, and listen avidly as Oscar talks about the new bar that they're going to.

He's just nervous because usually, he has backup. Spot always used to tell him to call him if he had an issue on a date if he ever needed help.

Spot didn't even mention it this time, though, and that just made Race a little more hesitant than usual.

\---

Spot is sitting at the kitchen table, waiting, when he gets the call.

He was watching the TV in their lounge, half-waiting for Race to return so he can apologize profusely. He's so nervous he even started scribbling lines on index cards.

Though it is nearly eight, and Race left at seven. Spot doubts Race will be home for a while, but h can't bring himself to move.e

Something in his head is ringing, like an alarm bell. He feels anxiety prickle his skin, and he doesn't know how people can stand it.

Then, an actual alarm goes off.

It's his phone.

_Incoming Call: Anthony Higgins_

Spot jumps at the noise. Why the _hell_ would Race be calling?

 _I swear,_ He thinks _, if this is some, "sorry, Spot, I'm going to be a bit...busy tonight! Don't wait up!" call, I'm flushing his phone down the toilet and then lighting the apartment on fire._

He doesn't think Tony would do something like that, but they're both ruthless when fighting, which is why they don't fight much.

He glares at his phone until it goes to voicemail. He waits for one to pop up on his screen, or a text, but it doesn't happen.

Spot frowns. Race always leaves a reason for calling, because he tends to misplace his phone, and he doesn't like to worry people, and, damn, does Spot know Race too well.

Spot is about to reach for his phone when he gets another call, just seconds after the last.

_Incoming Call: Anthony Higgins_

Spot hesitates but grabs his phone. He glances at the contact name once more before sliding left and putting his phone to his ear.

"Yeah?" Spot says, trying to sound busy.

There's silence for a second. Spot is about to speak again, but Race beats him to it.

"Spot?" Race says quietly.

"Race?" Spot says. "What do you need?"

He's short with Race, but he tries to tamper down his annoyance.

"I...Spot, I need you to come get me."

Spot rolls his eyes even know he knows Race can't see him.

"Not having as much fun on your date as you thought?"

Race takes a few seconds to breathe, and when Spot can hear this through the phone, he knows something's wrong.

"Sean, I think...I think he put something in my drink."

Spot stops breathing.

" _What_?"

"I...I don't know. Spot, I-I'm scared."

"Where are you?" Spot demands, but he's already throwing shoes on. "What happened?"

Race sounds like he's crying now. "I...Spot, I don't feel good. I'm so tired, and it's hard to move my arms."

"Tony, where are you?"

"I'm in the-the bathroom at The Delancy's bar downtown. Oscar, my date, he...I don't know, he kept touching me, and I wanted to leave, but he convinced me to have one more drink."

Race lets out a sob.

"Do not leave the bathroom," Spot says. "Don't let him touch you or take you anywhere, _okay_? Do you hear me?"

"...Y-yes," Race says.

" _Tony_ ," Spot says. "What aren't you going to do?"

"...Go...Go with him. I'm-I'm not going to go with him," Race stutters out. His sobs slow, and Spot can't tell if that's good or not.

"Next time," Spot mutters as he's dashing from the apartment and slamming his door, "Call me!"

"I-I did, Spot," Race says, confusion and something else lacing his voice.

Spot wants to facepalm, but he's taking the stairs three at a time, and he needs one hand on his phone and one hand on the railing.

"I meant when he first started making you uncomfortable, not when he fucking _drugged_ you, Anthony."

Race lets out a quiet, "Oh." He hiccups. "But you were mad at me, Spot."

"Never mad, Race," Spot says honestly as he power walks through the lobby, causing people to give him odd looks. "Keep talking. I'm nearly to my car."

"...You're not mad at me?" Race says, and Spot thinks he's talking to a two-year-old.

"No, Race. I was...Scared. I was scared Race, and I took it out on you. Now shut up and let me get to you."

A pause.

"But...You's just told me to keep talking."

Spot let's out a sigh. At least Race is well enough to be his usual smart-ass self.

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"You--Oh. _Uh_."

"Race?" Spot questions. He can feel anxiety spike all through him, and he hates it. Spot throws the car Race and he share into drive and whips out of his parking spot. Thank god Race's date drove them, it may be the only good thing they've done that Spot will ever recognize.

"I-I gotta go," Race says, and Spit can hear another voice in the background.

"C'mon, baby!" A man calls. "Let's get you back to the table."

The call cuts out, and if Spot could afford it, he'd throw his phone out of the window and run it over.

Fear is lighting his entire body, and he thinks he'd do anything to be able to be at Race's side right now.

Race is lightning, and Spot needs to be his thunder before his light is forgotten completely.

-

Spot makes the twelve-minute drive in five.

-

When he arrives, his first instinct is to barge into the bar and search for Race.

He plans to storm the place, tearing it apart brick by brick until Race is at his side again, how it should be.

He's barely out of his car before he sees Race, though.

He and a taller man are near the entrance to the bar. Race's eyes are drooping, and his limbs move like syrup.

The man with him, however, is quicker. He moves deliberately with calculated movements. He steers Race around the few people milling on the streets, laughing and grinning.

"Lightweight!" Oscar calls to a smiling couple. "I need to get him home before he falls asleep in the restaurant!"

Spot already wants to punch the ass, but then Oscar starts to tug a Race to the parking lot when Race is obviously trying to fight back, and Spot snaps.

He doesn't even bother closing his car door before walking up to the two of them.

Race's eyes go wide. "Spot? You came!"

Oscar gives him a confused look. Before he saw the rapidly approaching Brooklyn teen, that is.

"Hi? You know Race?" Oscar says, but he gives both of them snake-like grins.

Spot doesn't bother with an answer. Well, _unless_ you count a fist to the jaw as an answer.

-

"Race?" Spot calls, holding him to his side. "Race, stay awake. We're going to the hospital."

Race's head rolls against his shoulder. He doesn't respond.

Spot sweeps Race into his arms carefully, steps over the unconscious and bloodied Oscar, and walks to their car.

"Stay awake. Please, Race. Everything is okay now. I promise. I'm here."

 

 

**+Bonus**

 

The first thing Race notices when he wakes up is a dark figure hunched in a chair.

The second thing he notices is that he's in the hospital.

He shoots into a sitting position, not conscious of the fact that he has an IV in his arm.

Spot shoots up as well, awoken by the movement.

"You're okay," Spot says, sudden at Race's side. "Everything is fine."

"I feel like death," Race admits. "What happened?"

Spot shakes his head. "We have _so_ much to talk about."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! hope it wasn't too dark!! hope i didn't screw anything up bc i wrote this on my phone at a soccer game!! 
> 
> slide into my tumblr dm's:  
> @Calciumsulfide 
> 
> comment! if you want! please!


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